


The People We Love

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Brief Crowley/OC, I mean could be non-sexual cuddling and kissing, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Love Actually, Love Confessions, M/M, Manager!Aziraphale, Meet-Cute, Or not, Pop Star!Crowley, briefest of appearances by Gabriel and Beelzebub, up to you really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-04-23 00:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: Anthony Crowley's Christmas single is at the top of the charts, and he's realized that there's only one place he really wants to be on Christmas.ORThe Love Actually AU that literally no one, in the entire world, ever asked for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	The People We Love

**Author's Note:**

> I am supposed to be working on Rules and Exceptions and I am. I AM. But people were talking about Love Actually and saying that they could see A/C in Karl and Sara, but all I could do was picture pop star!Crowley showing up at his manager's flat on Christmas Eve to announce that he just wants to be with the person he loves. And then I couldn't get the idea out of my head.
> 
> So here. Take this brain baby and do with it what you will.

This was a terrible idea.

It wasn’t too late, obviously. He could go back to the party and pretend none of this had happened, or he could take the bottle of champagne he’d filched and just go home and get drunk off his arse.

But it was Christmas and...fuck it, right? He could always blame it on the eggnog.

He rang the bell.

* * *

**Two Months Ago**

“You can_ not _ be serious,” Crowley groaned, slouching further in his seat.

“You haven’t had a single reach number one in years.” Ezra Fell, his manager, pointed out. “You know how this business is, my dear. If you don’t have a hit soon, you’ll become irrelevant.”

“Maybe I want to be irrelevant. Sounds relaxing.”

“Crowley…”

“Seriously, angel. This is it. This is the year I retire.”

“I’m not saying the idea doesn’t have merit,” Ezra said diplomatically, “but you haven’t retired _ yet _. As that’s the case, it is still my job to help you sell records.”

“And you’re doing that by making me retool a love song into a Christmas single.” Crowley scrubbed his hands down his face. “Fuck. I hate everything about that sentence.”

“Well, we could always shop around for a duet,” Ezra said, the barest hint of a smirk on his face. “I thought perhaps Mariah or Celine might…”

“You’re fired.”

“Very well. Enjoy scheduling your own press tour.”

“You are _ such _ a bastard, you know that.”

“I do.” Ezra sat back and steepled his hands. “You know very well that I can’t _ make _ you do anything, Crowley. This is merely a suggestion. It’s a _ good _ suggestion, mind you, and you’d be rather foolish not to accept it, but ultimately the decision is yours.”

Crowley glowered at him from behind his sunglasses, wishing he didn’t know Ezra as well as he did, didn’t trust and respect him so much. Anyone else would have been tossed out on their arse for talking to him this way, but Ezra...they’d known each other forever. Ever since Crowley was young and hip and the next hot thing on the pop scene, and Ezra was an earnest, ambitious young partner eager to prove himself.

They’d come a long way - Crowley with his Grammys and his platinum records and his adoring fanbase, Ezra with his own firm and a respectable number of clients and a sterling reputation. And Ezra had never, not once, steered him wrong.

“_ Fine _,” he growled at last. “Let’s do it.”

Ezra’s face lit up in a way that always made Crowley’s ears turn red. “Oh, _ excellent _,” he cooed. “I’ll let the studio know immediately.”

* * *

**Present Day**

“Crowley?” Ezra’s face was a mess of emotions: confusion, concern, delight. That last one had Crowley’s heart beating faster. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Crowley held up the champagne as if that explained anything. “Can I come up?”

“Of course, my dear,” Ezra stepped aside to let him through, then shut and bolted the door before leading him up the stairs to his flat. “Is something the matter? Aren’t you supposed to be at Elton’s?”

“Was. Left.”

“Ah. Did, ah - did something happen?”

“Kinda.” Crowley glowered at an old poster on the wall - it was from his very first tour, and seeing it hanging here in Ezra’s apartment was making his stomach do strange and unnerving things.

“Crowley?” Ezra had taken his arm and was peering into his face with great concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just, uh. Wanted to talk to you. Got, uh. Something to say.”

“Oh. Alright, then.” Ezra backed away and clasped his hands in front of him. “Go on.”

Crowley looked down at the bottle in his hand and took a deep breath. “I’m quitting. Retiring. Whatever. I’m done. With all of it.”

“Ah.” When Crowley glanced up, he saw that his manager had gone pale, but his face was devoid of any expression. “I rather thought that was it.”

“Yeah. It’s just. I hate that fucking song, but that’s not...my time’s up, I think. Nobody wants to hear my kind of music and I don’t want to write the stuff they wanna hear.” Crowley gestured with the bottle. “And besides, I’m just...tired, y’know? That press tour sucked balls, and not just because I didn’t wanna talk about the song. I’m tired of being _ on _ all the time.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Ezra said softly. “I have other clients, and you know your happiness is of utmost importance to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Ezra was twisting his fingers now. “It has been quite a ride, you know. It’s been an honour. But if you’re no longer happy - well, you ought to do whatever it takes to fix that.”

“Right. Okay. Cool.”

“But Crowley, dear, you could have told me all this tomorrow. There was no need to leave your Christmas festivities to give me a heads-up.”

“That’s...not what this is. Not a heads-up.”

Ezra looked completely confused now. “It isn’t?”

“Nah. Look, I was at Elton’s, right? Big party, lots of cool people, good food, decent wine...but there was something missing.” Crowley took a deep breath. He could get through this. “You weren’t there.”

Ezra’s jaw dropped open and he stared at Crowley in silence for several seconds. “Me?” he said at last, pointing at himself. “I _ hate _ those parties, Crowley. I’ve only been to three in my life. Why on _ earth _…”

“Because Christmas isn’t...it’s not about that, right? It’s about...about being with the people you. Y’know.” Another deep breath. “Love.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t been tossed out yet. Had to be a good sign. “Yeah.”

“Well. I’m.” There was another long pause. “I’m touched, dear boy. It has certainly been a privilege to be your friend all these years.”

“No, that’s not - I mean, yeah, same here, but…” Crowley sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. Why hadn’t he put the champagne down yet? “Look, that’s not exactly what I…how long have you been my manager? Do you remember?”

“Goodness.” Ezra’s brow crinkled as he thought. “It must be...what, thirty years?”

“Twenty-seven years, eight months, and...uh...eighteen days.”

“That’s quite...specific.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I remember the exact moment I met you. Like it happened yesterday. Don’t you?”

* * *

**Twenty-Seven Years, Eight Months, and Eighteen Days Ago**

“We’re absolutely thrilled you’ve chosen Celestial Management, Mr. Crowley.”

Gabriel Clark had the kind of booming voice Americans tended to use when they wanted to sound both friendly and authoritative. It was jarring and unnecessary, and Crowley refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Thanks for taking me on,” Crowley said, more out of politeness than anything. They both knew he was the agency’s best shot at the big time. “Are you gonna be my agent, or…?”

“No, we’ve settled on Ezra Fell for you. He hasn’t been here long, but he has great instincts. You’ll be his first full-time client!”

“Okay. So. Where is he?” Crowley looked around the conference room. His attorney was looking through the paperwork while the firm’s attorney stood by, and there was no one else in sight.

“I’m sure he’ll be here any second. It’s not like him to be late.” If Clark smiled any more widely his face would split in two.

Just then the door burst open and a man came bustling in. He was a tad shorter than Crowley and a few years older, and he was absolutely soaked to the bone.

“Ezra.” Gabriel’s voice could freeze fire. “Glad you could make it.”

Ezra Fell looked up from where he’d been wringing water out of the sleeve of his coat. “Oh! Terribly sorry I’m late,” he said. “Bit of a mob scene out there.”

“You’re just in time to meet your new client. Ezra, this is Anthony Crowley.”

“Delighted to meet you, Anthony!” Ezra smiled. “I’d shake your hand, but...well.”

Crowley was at a loss. See, the thing was - despite the dripping wet clothes and the mussed-up white-blond hair and the frankly stupid tartan bowtie - the thing was, Ezra Fell was _ fucking gorgeous _ , and his smile was like something out of a goddamned toothpaste advert but warmer and sweeter, and the last thing Crowley had expected was for his manager to be. Well. _ This _.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” he said after a pause that was probably pretty awkward for all the people who were not having to fight their attraction to their manager. “I mean, ideally my manager would at least remember to carry an umbrella in London in the spring.”

“Oh, I had an umbrella,” Ezra said, running one hand through his hair and mussing it up even more. “But there was this young woman leaving the grocery and she looked so miserable and tired, and with a little one on the way it’s no surprise she’d forgotten and…”

“What…”

“I would have liked to call her a taxi, but I was running late, so I gave her mine.” Ezra shrugged as if he hadn’t just rocked Crowley’s world. “I’ll pick up another before I leave for the day.” He glanced up at met Crowley’s eyes. “Goodness. Are you alright?”

“Fine. You, uh. I didn’t think guardian angels existed outside stories.”

A fine blush spread over Ezra’s cheeks and Crowley was captivated. “Oh. Well. I…”

“Crowley, come look at this clause,” Bea called from the table. “Not sure I like this.”

Crowley tried his best to concentrate on the meeting, but if his gaze kept sliding over to the other side of the table, he couldn’t be blamed. He’d never met anyone like Ezra Fell in his life, and he had a sneaking suspicion he never would again. He was well and truly _ fucked _.

* * *

**Present Day**

“I remember,” Ezra said softly.

“See, here’s the thing.” Crowley finally set the bottle down on the coffee table so that he could gesture around the room. “Either one of us could’ve moved on at some point, right? You have all those other clients, you don’t need me, and it’s not like I’ve made you much money these last few years. And I...especially about fifteen years ago, I could have gone to another agency, one with more clout or star power or whatever. But we didn’t. Why is that?”

“Crowley…”

“See, I know why _ I _ never went anywhere. I know why I stuck around for nearly three bloody decades.” Ezra’s eyes were very wide now and he looked as if he thought he might be dreaming, which Crowley took as a good sign. He stepped a little closer. “It was because of you, Ezra. I - you had me from that first meeting. I was an absolute goner. Never wanted anyone else.”

“Crowley, please stop.” Ezra’s voice was shaky. “We _ both _ know that isn’t true.”

“What, cause I slept with a few fans? Was half of a celebrity power couple now and then? Didn’t last, any of them, did they? They were never going to. Because it has always, _ always _ been you.”

Still with the staring. Crowley felt his face turning red.

“So I’m at this party and all I can think about is that I’d rather be here with you, because at Christmas you should be with the people you love and. Shit.” He sighed. “I’ve completely fucked everything up, haven’t I?”

“I’m not sure.” Ezra seemed to be steadying himself. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Stone cold fucking sober, thank you very much.”

“And is this an attempt to embarrass or - or _ prank _ me in some way?”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Crowley felt his temper rising. “Look, if you don’t feel the same way you can just say so, you don’t have to be a prick about it.”

“Feel what way?”

“Are you _ fucking _kidding me? Did I say all that in Arabic, or something?”

“You know how to speak Arabic?”

“_ No! _”

“Please lower your voice.” Ezra’s voice was steadier now, and he had a determined glint in his eye that Crowley recognized but wasn’t really sure how to interpret now. “You’ve hinted and alluded and danced your way around the topic quite admirably, my dear, but I want to be sure I know exactly what you mean before I respond.” He took a step closer. “If I understand you correctly, you want to spend Christmas with me. Do I have that right?”

“I’m bloody here, aren’t I?” At Ezra’s raised eyebrow, Crowley rephrased his answer through clenched teeth. “_ Yes _.”

“You consider our friendship of great importance.”

“Obviously.”

“You…” Ezra swallowed. “You feel a certain...you are…” His voice trailed off and he looked up at Crowley, his eyes large and pleading, and Crowley broke.

“I love you, angel. Always have.”

“Oh, thank heavens.” And with that Ezra stretched up and kissed him.

* * *

**Ten Years Ago**

“Crowley! Pat! Over here!”

By now Crowley was used to the shouts and the flashes, but it was all still a bit new for Pat. Crowley slipped an arm around their waist and grinned, then steered them toward the doors of the ballroom, careful not to step on the elaborate train of their gown.

“I think I’m going blind,” Pat whispered. “There are always so many of them.”

“They won’t be inside, you’ll be okay.” Crowley took their hand and squeezed reassuringly.

Sure enough, when the ballroom doors closed behind them, everything was quieter, though still bustling. The room was bursting with London’s elite. Politicians, authors, artists, musicians - everyone who was anyone was in this room.

“Remind me what this is again,” Pat said, releasing Crowley’s hand and looking around the room.

“Charity gala. For literacy. Like, libraries in disadvantaged schools, stuff like that.”

“Hm.” Pat looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing.”

“Crowley!” 

At the sound of that voice, Crowley whipped around. Ezra Fell was advancing on him, dressed to the nines in a cream and white tuxedo, and all the air seemed to leave the room. “Hey,” he croaked.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ezra beamed. “Ah, hello, Pat.”

“Hello. Good turnout, looks like.”

“Yes, and I’m _ so _ glad. This program is very near and dear to my heart, I don’t mind telling you.” Ezra clasped both hands in front of him and rocked forward on his toes, his excitement causing his face to glow. “I’m simply _ blown away _ by the support it’s received. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden all of these - _ artistic _ types were buying tickets and sending donations and...I suppose love of literature is universal, isn’t it?”

“Mmmyep.” Crowley glanced at Pat, who was watching him suspiciously. “We’re gonna make the rounds. See ya.”

When they were a safe distance away from his manager, Pat dropped his arm and stepped in front of him, hands on their hips. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’ve been promoting the gala on Twitter and Instagram? That half of these people are here because you said they should be?”

Crowley shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t wanna...brag or anything, I guess.”

“Since when?”

“You don’t know him, he’d go all goopy and call me names.”

“Names.”

“Yeah.”

Pat rolled their eyes. “Whatever. Let’s see who else is here pretending to care about kids who don’t have enough books.”

“I care!”

“Right, sorry. Of course you do. That’s why you worked so hard to make sure all these people showed up. You _ definitely _ didn’t do it to make Fell happy.”

“I…”

“Anthony!” Oh, thank God they weren’t actually alone in this ballroom. Crowley threw himself into socializing and being the life of the party. That was what he was good at after all.

The gala was winding down and Crowley was waiting on a balcony for Pat, who had got swept up in a conversation about their latest project, but as soon as they could get away the two of them were going to leave. The longer they stayed, the more chance was that Ezra would figure out what happened and want to _ talk _ about it and…

“There you are.”

Shit.

“We haven’t had the chance to talk all night,” Ezra said, stepping up beside him. “It was all a bit overwhelming.”

“Yeah.”

“Funny thing.” Ezra’s voice dipped a bit and Crowley suppressed a shiver. “Until a week or so ago, we’d only sold half the tickets and were looking at having to cancel.”

“Mmm?”

“Yes. But then - well, apparently, the name of the charity started _ trending _. You know I don’t go in for that Tweeter nonsense…”

“_ Twitter. _”

“...but several of my fellow directors do and are, incidentally, fans of yours.”

Crowley shrugged and watched a spider make its way across the balustrade. “Knew it meant a lot to you. Didn’t want it to be a flop.”

Ezra stepped into Crowley’s line of sight and bent his head until Crowley was forced to meet his eyes. Just as he’d feared, Ezra’s face was _ glowing _ with appreciation and gratitude, and it was making Crowley’s eyes burn.

“_ Thank you _, my dear.”

“‘Snothing.”

There was a strange moment, then. Ezra’s hand moved a little, as if he were about to take Crowley’s, and something shifted in his blue-grey eyes, and Crowley’s breath caught in his throat…

“Ready to go if you are,” Pat said as they breezed out onto the balcony. “Seriously, those people could talk for days if it weren’t for…” They paused, taking in the scene before them. “Not interrupting, am I?”

“Nope.” Crowley stepped back. “Night, Ezra. Great party.”

“Y-yes. Good night, my - Crowley. Pat.”

In the car, Pat was silent. When Crowley pulled up in front of the townhouse, they turned to him with a serious expression. “I think you know why I’m not going to invite you up.”

He could lie, could act hurt or confused, but what was the point? “Yeah.”

“You really should tell him, you know. I think he wants to hear it.”

Nope. No way. Last thing Ezra needed, his sleazy pop star client putting the moves on him, the paparazzi at his door every day, sordid headlines and ruined reputations. _ Fraternizing _ , they’d call it. _ Workplace benefits _.

“I’ll think about it,” Crowley said aloud. “Thanks for coming.”

He put the car in gear and drove off, trying not to think about how many of his romantic endeavours had ended this exact same fucking way.

* * *

**Present Day**

“I love you, you know.”

“Mmm?” Crowley fought the tide of sleep and turned his head to look at Ezra, who was still a bit flushed and disheveled-looking. He looked good like that. Should probably make a permanent change. Crowley would help.

“It occurred to me that I never said. I do love you, I have for some time. I never expected that you would...that you _ could _.” He smiled wryly. “I’m not exactly your usual type.”

“When’ve I ever had a type?”

“I only meant - I’m not famous, or talented, or especially good-looking…”

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.”

Blushing, Ezra shook his head. “I’m…”

“All of that means fuck all anyway.” Crowley pulled on Ezra’s arm until they had their arms around each other and he could kiss the tip of an upturned nose, the lids of startlingly blue eyes. “Told you, it was always you. Loved you from the first. My own proper angel. Kind, and warm, and a right bastard sometimes.”

“Crowley!”

“What? You can’t tell me the warriors of God aren’t bastards.”

Ezra huffed and curled further into his embrace. “I suppose they might be.”

They stayed that way for some time, adjusting to this new reality.

“What will you do once you’ve retired?” Ezra asked at last.

“Dunno. Nothing for awhile. Haven’t done nothing in a long time. But after that...buy a cottage somewhere I think. Garden a bit. Go for drives on country roads.” He nuzzled Ezra’s hair. “Try to convince a certain angel to retire and come with me.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Ezra said smartly. “I’ve been helping my clients find new representation for months. I’m quite ready to live a quieter life. I’m getting a bit too old for this business anyway.”

“Wait. Really?” Crowley sat up, looking down at his bemused...what? Lover? Boyfriend? “You’d do that? Just...drop everything and come with me?”

“Of course, dear. What did you think this was? A one-time fling?” He pulled Crowley down beside him again. “I’ve never had one of those and I don’t plan to start now. Unless you don’t want…”

“I want.” Crowley cut him off with a kiss. “I want, I _ want _. Retire with me, move to the country with me, go skinnydipping in the ocean with me…”

“I haven’t agreed to _ that! _”

“Not yet.” Crowley grinned. “Bet I can convince you.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

Crowley took him at his word.


End file.
